


The Old Hunter's Song.

by RascallyRose



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bloodborne Fusion, Bittersweet, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, I'm Sorry, Sad, big sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 03:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17459615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RascallyRose/pseuds/RascallyRose
Summary: This thing was never meant to last, it was the nature of their work. That didn't mean it hurt any less.___Bloodborne AU sad fic.





	The Old Hunter's Song.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jawli](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jawli).



> I'm sorry, this was stuck in my head like a bad song. Throwing this out there and then washing my hands of it. Last warning this is heavy and sad, there is no safety out of this harbor. Nothing good happens to anyone in Bloodborne.

An early winter wind whipped through the streets of the darkened wharf, rankling old wooden shutters as it passed. The warped boards creaked like the bones of some long forgotten beast, popping and snapping against the flurries. The zephyrs wailed loudest across the harbor ferrying an unnatural chill that warded off the town’s inhabitants.

 

Sylvanas didn’t mind the cold and she welcomed the emptiness. It was better that she didn’t run across further distraction. The splash of her hurried footsteps spattered the buildings like so much ichor, soaking into the brittle wood. The image made her stomach churn, the worry driving her forward was a hungry beast.

 

A bright flash illuminated the largest ship in the harbor, her tattered sails illuminated by a burst of arcane power. A wave of cold rolled over the water, frost catching the other vessels in it’s cruel grip and holding them in stasis.

 

The huntress quickened her pace, the air burning her lungs. She needed to be there now, she needed to reach that ship. She just prayed she wouldn’t make it too late.

 

* * *

Sylvanas staggered slightly as a young woman bumped into her, far too absorbed in her reading to watch where she was walking. Papers scattered as she caught the blonde before she could fall.

 

“Sorry, that was incredibly clumsy of me,” the scholar said in a rush as she scrambled to catch the loose sheets. She blinked owlishly when she turned to find a stack of papers extended to her.

 

The huntress stared impassive beneath her porcelain mask. In a moment the young woman would grab her things and leave in a hurry, they all did. Sylvanas couldn’t blame them, she was a hunter of hunters. The grim executioner to a reviled caste. And she was the Dark Lady,  supposed harbinger of death. Maybe the young woman would make a polite excuse before she took her leave, she seemed well bred, it would be a welcome change.

 

The woman studied her mask openly, hand lingering near her chest.

 

A pregnant pause lingered as the woman made no move to retrieve the offered items. Full, youthful features so focused on her, white hair with a single gold streak, it was hard to place how old she was. Old enough to know better, the huntress finally decided, ready to move this along.

 

“You can take them,” Sylvanas assured, the eerie lilt of her voice uninhibited by her mask.

 

“I can-“ the young woman was still in a reverie before she jumped to take the offering, blushing to her ears, “right, sorry, papers. My papers!”

 

The huntress watched as the young woman collected herself. She offered a polite bow before turning on her heel to return to her duties.

 

“Wait!”

 

The command surprised her. She did as she was told, back still turned , she angled her head back towards the other woman.

 

“My name is Jaina,” the scholar called, perhaps a bit hopeful, “what do they call you?”

 

The huntress thought for a moment. She had gathered many titles and even more curses. Lowly as she was, expendable, and tools didn’t need names. Yet, this girl had asked.

 

“Sylvanas,” she replied finally.

* * *

 

Sylvanas crested the ramp and froze.

 

Jaina was laid in the center of the deck, her fair hair a halo around her still features. A red pool seeping from a deep gash in her chest. Her face was serene, as if she was sleeping.

 

The banshee took an unsteady step forward and then another. Her body felt like lead, but it moved of its own accord. One foot and then another until she fell to her knees next to her only friend, her lover.

 

She stroked a cold hand through fair hair, the cheek she touched equally cold. Something in that touch made it real, gave the affair a note of finality. The dam finally broke.

 

The long keening wail echoed through the harbor, a sound of pain and profound loss for she was now truly alone.

* * *

 

Sylvanas twitched an ear in the direction she had just come. Somewhere along the line she had picked up a follower. She had to imagine the young woman thought herself very stealthy, darting between tombstones in unusual silence. Were her dark cloak not billowing behind her, she might have gotten away with it. The huntress toyed with the idea of testing the limits of her tracking ability. She checked her pocket watch, plenty of time before she would be needed anywhere else. Yes, finally decided, it was time to see exactly what her pursuer was working with.

 

The banshee continued her purposeful stride until she reached the church quarter gates. Passing through the arch and rounding the corner she dropped into a sprint with inhuman speed, vaulting to the top of one of the small roofs. She briefly checked that the nearby latter was raised, glancing backwards to check the courtyard. The huntress felt a chill run up her spine, the young woman was already peering around the arch. Icy blue eyes entranced her from beneath that dark hood, an unnatural glow highlighting them as she seemed to prepare herself and Sylvanas was thankful for the impassive mask to hide her surprise. 

 

The huntress lept to the other side of the wall, knowing better than to test the limits of the arcane. She didn’t glance back as she heard roof tiles protesting, already having a good idea who was disturbing them. She dashed beneath the nearest awning and down the stairs to the lower part of town. Taking advantage of the steam rising off a nearby sewer grate, Sylvanas ducked around a nearby alley. Her ears pinned forward waiting for just the right moment as quick, light footfalls came closer.

 

3...2...1...Now! 

 

Fingers dug into the soft material of the woman’s cloak, dragging her bodily into the relative privacy of the hiding place. She spun them, slamming her pursuer into the brick wall, using her weight to trap her there. Perhaps a touch excessive when she was being held with her toes just touching the ground, but Sylvanas wasn’t one to take chances.

 

“What business do you have with a hunter of hunters,” she hissed as the woman struggled to regain her breath. Maybe it was more than a touch excessive she realized, reaching instead for the young woman’s hood. Pulling it back, white hair cascaded out highlighted by a single streak of gold.

 

“Jaina?” she couldn’t help sounding surprised. She so rarely encountered someone twice and they never sought her out. She lowered the woman to the ground quickly, taking a step back, but not releasing her cloak.

 

“S-surprise?” the arcanist at least had the good sense to look embarrassed, a light flush coloring her cheeks.

 

Sylvanas didn’t reply, continuing to let her mask level the young woman with its impassive stare. The scholar seemed to be waiting for her to reply and began to fidget nervously when no response came.

 

“I was just testing a new spell,” she continued nervously, wringing her hands, “it dampens my the noise I make. There’s another one to make the user invisible, I haven’t mastered that.”

 

“I could have killed you,” the huntress groaned, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

“Not the point.”

 

Another long pause settled between them as Jaina seemed to struggle to find some witty response. Sylvanas did lift her mask to rub her eyes then, tilting her head forward as she lifted the mask, careful to conceal her features.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Sylvanas paused. That was certainly unexpected.

 

“I wanted to know more about you. I followed you and I shouldn’t have done that,” Jaina continued, looking properly shamed now.

 

“it’s fine, I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” The huntress sighed, “It’s a bad impulse. I’m not used to people seeking me out.”

 

Her ears twitched towards the entrance to the ally and Sylvanas moved to hide Jaina almost instinctively. The townsfolk passed without incident, too caught up in their business to worry themselves. So different than when she would meet the same men on the hunt.

 

“You should go back now,” Sylvanas said, not turning her attention from the front of the alley, “this is a bad place.”

 

She turned away fully, intending to leave.

 

“Wait,” the statement was accompanied by a tug at her long coat. She looked back at Jaina who seemed to think better of the action, dropping the fabric with her hands raised, “can I see you again?”

 

The question puzzled the banshee. Even a coffin fitter was more welcome than she was.

 

“It’s the best way to not have me follow you into ‘dangerous areas’.”

 

Sylvanas puffed out a small laugh, “I suppose it is.”

 

* * *

The banshee cradled the mage in her lap, not caring that blood was seeping into her long coat. Jaina’s head rested lifelessly on her shoulder in a weak facsimile of life. Sylvanas pressed her nose into the woman’s hair, choking back sobs as she clutched her possessively.

 

A loud creak sounded across the deck as another hunter stopped at the end of the ramp. They said nothing, staring at the pair. Red eyes burning back at them, daring them to continue. For a moment the other hesitated and she would have let them leave.

 

The gleam of silver caught the banshees attention and she clenched her teeth. The other hunter was wearing Jaina’s necklace. Her most prized possession and this beast was wearing it around their neck.

 

She repositioned her mask, bringing cool porcelain to cover her features. Gently, she returned Jaina to the surface of the deck, stroking her cheek delicately. Then she rose, taking two long blades from her hip and twisting them into a vicious bow. She took aim at her opponent’s heart and fired.

 

* * *

 

A deep hollow clang reverberated through the air, boot heels on steel ladder rungs. The snow falling muffled all sound, leaving the city in a heavy slumber. Jaina stood facing away, palms outstretched. Sylvanas tread carefully, not wanting to break the young woman’s trance. Though, she was sure her ascent already had.

 

The huntress studied the arcanist as she came to stand quietly beside her. Jaina’s eyes were closed, a serene smile playing across full lips. Her cheeks were rosy with the cold and for a desperate moment, Sylvanas felt a pang of longing. 

 

“It really is perfect like this,” Jaina finally sighed, sapphire eyes fluttering open to look at her, “our own little world really.”

 

Sylvanas hummed in response, leaning onto the guardrail.

 

She could feel the young woman studying her. That inquisitive mind trying to crack some inner mystery that the banshee guarded so fiercely.

 

“Why do you wear the mask?” she finally asked, still gazing intently enough to burn.

 

Sylvanas hesitated. The huntress found herself wishing for the Jaina she had met on that first day. The Jaina who would have stumbled over herself at the silence. This Jaina knew her better. And the huntress knew this moment, the end of whatever it was they had built over the last few months. Some selfish part of her wanted to retain the facade, continue living in the lie and clutch at the only relationship she had built in a very long time. But she cared too much for the girl, it wasn’t fair. Everything ended eventually.

 

The banshee reached up finally, removing the mask as an answer. The ribbons suspending the mask cascaded away from her face like water, smooth porcelain following her hand limply to her waist. Sylvanas fixed her burning stare at her feet. She knew what she would see if she looked at Jaina. Disgust, anger, fear, she had felt them all and she didn’t know which would hurt the most. 

 

Thin fingers brushed her cheeks cautiously, Sylvanas went rigid, not daring to hope. Jaina’s palms were soft against her and so very warm.

 

“I won’t hurt you,” Jaina barely whispered, stepping a little closer. Handling her so tenderly, almost afraid she would bolt.

 

“I promise not to hurt you,” the arcanist whispered against her lips.

 

The first brush of a kiss was gentle and lingering and not nearly long enough. Sylvanas felt the prick of unshed tears as she realized this was real and happening.

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that I-”

 

Jaina was cut off with a hungry kiss. Her responding whimper swallowed in the desperate press of lips to her own. Sylvanas lapped over the mage’s lower lip before lightly nipping with her fangs. The arcanist parted her lips granting her partner entry, it was hardly in her nature to deny. The banshee wrapped an arm around her lower back possessively, letting the other tangle in her pale hair.

 

They parted to let Jaina catch her breath, foreheads pressed together.

 

“That was,” the arcanist panted, a deep flush painting her features and highlighting a smattering of freckles, “...wow.”

 

Sylvanas huffed out a laugh, breath ghosting over Jaina’s lips, “my silly girl.”

 

* * *

Sylvanas stumbled, clutching her now wounded side as her adversary slid to a halt opposite her. She watched as they removed a blood vial from their pack, injecting the contents. She herself was dry, her wounds stitching slowly in her exertion. Her mask crumbled, now covering only her left eye. She snarled, adjusting her stance to lunge, when her boot contacted something slick as she struggled to stand. 

 

She looked around, finding Jaina where she had left her. Grief flashed across her features, she had no other options.

 

Sylvanas lifted the other woman tenderly, letting her head fall back to expose her neck. The huntress nuzzled along the pale column of the arcanist’s throat.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before plunging white fangs into soft flesh. Hot blood flowed over her lips and down her throat. The huntress could feel the other woman’s energies fusing with her own, the last of her life making her blood sing with arcane power. She let her baser instincts take over then, shadows crawling from her skin, her fingers forming into wicked claws.

 

She lay the young woman to rest again, turning to the other hunter with a low hiss. She lunged across the deck, shadows dancing in her wake.

* * *

 

Sylvanas carded her fingers through Jaina’s pale hair, gently scraping her nails along her partner’s scalp with each pass. The arcanist shivered under the pleasant ministrations. Half lidded blue eyes met crimson, accompanied by an exhausted, but thoroughly satisfied smile.

 

“Morning,” Jaina’s voice was husky with sleep as she leaned up to kiss the banshee.

 

The huntress smiled, running her knuckles over her bare back. The young woman had such soft skin, she could touch her and never stop. Sylvanas trailed kisses along the marks she had left the night before. She continued her worship, trailing her hands from her ribs, down her sides, and over the swell of her hips.

 

Finally she leaned back to admire her work, enjoying the way Jaina studied her with darkened eyes. A flush had started to color her cheeks and shoulders, dark bruises already forming from the night before. Sylvanas smiled fondly, Jaina wore her marks well.

 

“What are you thinking about?” the mage murmured, brushing her fingers lightly along her thigh.

 

“You,” the huntress husked, leaning down to emphasize her statement with a kiss.

 

Jaina hummed, pulling her in for another. They let their actions speak for a while, falling into that familiar dance before Sylvanas pulled away again, fixing the young woman in her gaze.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered earnestly, brushing a lock of hair behind the arcanist's ear, “that you would ever glance at something so wretched-”

 

The kiss that stopped her was firm, but the look that followed even more forceful. She almost blanched in surprise.

 

“No one is allowed to speak of you that way,” Jaina’s tone brooked no argument, but she softened as she continued, “not even you.”

* * *

 

Sylvanas coughed, hot liquid filling her mouth. She strained, trying to stand, trying to do anything, but her body had stopped obeying her. Fresh tears welled in her eyes and she grit her teeth, trying desperately to leave her wretched world with some dignity.

 

The click of something mechanical rang out across the deck and Sylvanas just hoped they would end it quickly. 

 

As the first note rang across the deck she gasped audibly. The second found her struggling against the lump in her throat. The familiar melody danced through the quiet air now that all had gone still. Hot tears streamed down Sylvanas’ cheeks, blurring her vision as the hunter quietly placed the music box next to her. Her adversary nodded one final time, before turning to walk back onto the dock, heavy footsteps fading to nothing. And then she was alone.

 

The banshee let her head fall to one side, her eyes resting on her beloved. She reached out, threading her fingers through Jaina’s still ones.

 

“Beware, beware, the daughter of the sea.”

 

She sang quietly, feeling the last of her paramour’s arcane energy stir within her veins. The power running electric beneath her skin.

 

“Beware I heard him cry.”

 

She could feel the cold creeping into her limbs more deeply now as darkness began to dance at the edge of her vision.

 

“His words carried upon the ocean breeze.”

 

She could almost hear Jaina singing that familiar melody. Her voice so clear and beautiful and so profoundly sad. She squeezed the other woman’s hand in hers.

 

“As he sank beneath the tide.”

 

Her eyelids were growing so heavy. She couldn’t feel her legs. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered anymore.

 

A bright light consumed her vision and she squeezed her eyes against it. The clouds must have parted, but she no longer wanted to see. Warmth ghosted over her torso, up her shoulder, to cup her cheeks gently. She could swear she felt the phantom of a gentle kiss on her lips, so soft and warm. What a cruel trick her mind was playing on her.

 

“Silly girl.”

 

And she did open her eyes then.

 

The world blurred and spun for just a moment around blue eyes. But only a moment, the woman above her smiling so lovingly. They were in a field of white flowers, petals blowing lazily in the warm air. The mage brushed some errant hair behind the huntresses hear, her finger tips trailing softly down her jaw.

 

It had to be a cruel joke, but Sylvanas felt something warm stir in her chest unbidden.

 

“That’s my song.”

 

And then she did move. Grasping the Jaina’s hair and kissing her with so much fervor. She poured everything into the kiss. Pain, desperation, and just a bit of hope.

 

When they finally parted, flushed and gasping, the huntress laced their fingers again. She brought their foreheads to rest against one another and they sat like that for a long while.

 

They were together, that was all that mattered.


End file.
